The Faerie
by scripturient3201
Summary: Siv joins the fellowship. Will her past come back to haunt her? Will she ever be seen on equal terms or must she play nursemaid to a bunch of menfolk? Will she triumph or will sill she fail? 10th walker fic. AragornXOC slow updates
1. Chapter 1

The evening was cool enough to warrant sticking close to the fire as the stew pot burbled and glorped over it. It was meager fillings, but the message had been clear. This was indeed the spot, though she'd been there for near on a week.

The little moth that was her messenger had bid her aid to Gandalf's side, the place marked with his magic like a trek once long ago. The wizard's magic was unmistakable. Old and mischievous and tingly much the way the fire heated her skin, the magic excited her nerves.

The first time she'd felt the magic, it had freed her from her prison in the Forest Fangorn. It had indebted her to his service. But that debt had long since been repaid. So, why had she agreed to the summons? Especially if he bid her wait? How impolite of him.

"Good evening." The old man called, a smile in his voice as much as it was on his weary old face. Grizzled and gnarled with age, though his wise old eyes were filled with mirth and mischief. Always mischief.

"Puck's sake, took you long enough!" She cried, leaping into the air to flitter before him like the summer hummingbird. "Good evening? That all you've to say for yourself? Good evening? Be that a statement, a question, or perhaps an honorable mention?" She persisted.

He waited patiently in her ire before he replied with a sigh, eagerly seating himself at her fire to rest his travel weary bones. "Would it help your mood if I gave you the answer? Or would you perchance let me rest a moment?" He grumphed back at her, though there was no anger in it. He'd been expecting her temper, and having travelled so long with her, he knew just how to charm her. "Or would a gift, perhaps, serve better?"

"Gift?" She asked, immediately flitting to her own side of the fire to look at him. His old brown travel cloak, the peak of the grey robes, the old gnarled walking staff that he laid across his knees, the hat that covered what little of his face his long beard did not. "What gift?" The irksome tone was quickly replaced with curiosity as he dug in his pocket.

Producing a shiny object, he tossed it over the fire, but before she could reach out to catch it, the fire ignited it, causing her to gasp in merriment as it was one of his famous fireworks. It squeaked a bit, twittering like a bird in the morning, flitting this way and that before zipping off into the sky to fizzle out. "Oh!" She watched it go through the branches, but to her disappointment, it got no further than the canopy before something dropped to her feet with a dull thud. "Oh?" Reaching down, she plucked up the wooden carving, her fingertips brushing the lines and polished woodwork. A carved bird, ready to take flight. "How sweet!" She chirped herself, tucking it into the pouch at her belt.

"Perhaps now you are ready to listen to my proposal? Offer the amenities to the guest of your fire?" He asked, crooking an old whispy eyebrow her way.

"Oh… very well." She sighed, procuring a bowl for him as she scooped out the innards of the pot. "Your timing is impeccable."

"Well, a wizard always arrives-"

"Precisely when he means to." She finished with him, making him grin. "And not a moment more."

"Or less." He added, accepting the bowl. "Thank you, dear. Thank you."

"So, what troubles bring you this way?"

"Needs must." He nodded and with a zip of glowing faerie dust, he barely had time to blink before she'd settled back in her seat, a ring of protection about their little camp. Such a small area easily traversed for the woman. "I must call council in Imladris."

"The Elves?" She gave a curious tilt to her head. "Be that wise?"

"Tis the only course of action. The Ring-" She gasped, eyes wide. "has been found. And if I have found it, it is only a matter of time before others find it as well.

"The- where? Have you it with you?"

"Don't be absurd," He snapped, waving his hand from his face to bat her incessant nature away and send her back across the fire before she could search his pockets herself. "of course not. It is safe enough. For now, but my suspicions have been confirmed. And Lord Elrond must be alerted. The council of the races must be called."

"The races? Not meaning Sa-"

"No." Was his firm reply.

Her large eyes were sharp, what might have endeared man to her side now were more predatory than he liked, like an owl in the night watching for the prey it knew was in the brush to move, to shiver, to give way. "So. He has fallen?"

"We must be swift. I go to meet Frodo-"

She leapt at the name. "A hobbit?" Her gossamer wings glimmered in the firelight as they stood at attention on her back. "The ring is in the hands of a hobbit?!"

"It has been in the hands of a hobbit for many a year." He confirmed with a weary nod. "Bilbo."

"Bilbo?!" She yelped, horrified, sharp nails clawing at her own face. "Bilbo of Bag End?!"

"The very one. I'm to meet him in Bree- wait!" He called when she surged forward, just clearing the canopy. "You thoughtless songbird! You are needed elsewhere!"

She zipped back to the wizard, a snarl on her face, rightly so. "I am needed to control the darkness of the-"

"You are needed to alert Elrond of our plight. He must send word to the other races. Gondor, the watchers of the north, Mirkwood, Erebor- anyone who'll come to our aide. We must see to it that ring does not fall into the wrong hands."

"It is already in the wrong hands!"

He held firm against her snarling ferality. The nature of a faerie was fierce and strong, terrifying and swift. "I would not ask this of you if I didn't feel the urgency of it. You are the only one I trust for this task."

"I owe you nothing! My debt has long since been repaid!"

"I do not ask this because of debt, I ask this of my friend, my companion, for help because all of middle earth stands in dire straits. You must alert Elrond."

Her glare never lessened, though her feet did grace the ground. While that might have been seen as an advantage due to Gandalf's taller stature, that would have been a mistake- a rather grave mistake- should anyone try to use it. For he knew he was not the one in control here. With the flip of a coin, his head could fall from his shoulders if she so deemed him too irksome this time.

Though her fingers never so much as graced the blades at her hip, it did little to ease his mind. And the longer it took her to say something more, the greater the tremble in his stomach. For, if the little faerie was not with him on his quest, he feared for all of Middle Earth.

"Very well. To Elrond with me. Though, I will not titter about like some. My wings will be swift." She shot at him.

He scowled at her baiting before he finally managed to tuck into the soup. It was quite good, especially after the trauma he'd endured in Isengard. It warmed his stomach and settled his nerves. It allowed his weary bones to rest. The Eagle had dropped him as close to her as she could, but it had still been half a day in the blasted wood before he'd found her.

"Rest, old friend. Rest your weary bones and be at ease. You will be cared for 'til sun rise." She promised.

She did not look at him with those large eyes of hers, instead, she cast them to the shadows, ever mindful. Just at the edge of the light, he could see part of her spell, a faerie ring- a mushroom circle with vibrant red caps to warn of the danger. The only warning she'd bare to give.

He took the opportunity, as he eased himself into a proper sleeping pose, to take in her appearance. He'd last seen her many years ago, though it looked as though she had not changed, he might have blinked for all the change time had wrought on her. Her long copper hair had been tucked into a tidy bun, out of her face and away from the wings she kept folded about her shoulders like a shawl made of spider's silk. She still seemed to be dressed in the clothes of Thranduil's court, greens and browns, though her feet, he noted with amusement, were bare as a hobbit's. Her large green eyes caught the light as she turned her gaze, scanning the perimeter. And then her eyes flicked to meet his.

Without hesitation, she smiled demurely, like only a faerie could, and a gentle hum filled the air. It might have been a whisper on the wind, but he knew her voice like his own.

A lullaby calmed even the wind as the forest held its breath to listen to the faerie song. And, before he could protest, his eyes were shut.

_Coo roo koo, cooruku, coo ru ku, coo ku_

_Coo roo koo, cooruku, coo ru ku, coo ku_

_Oh hush thee my dove, oh hush thee my sweet love_

_Oh hush thee my lap wing, my dear little bird._

_Oh, fold your wings and seek your nest now_

_The berries shine on the old rowan tree_

_The bird is home from the hills and valleys_

_Coo roo koo, cooruku, coo ru ku, coo ku_

_Coo roo koo, cooruku, coo ru ku, coo ku_


	2. Chapter 2

The city of Imladris, Last Homely House, shimmered in the sun as it graced the edge of the cliffs, waters flowing about from beneath the white stone. She landed with little pomp upon the circular stonework closest to the edge of the cliffs. The elves, long and graceful, cast sidelong glances and suspicious airs. It had long past time since she'd last dropped by- and then it had been with several curious guests- unpleasant. But she stood proudly upon the edge before walking forward to marvel at the architecture. It was simple and graceful, beautiful in its timeless ease. It may have been that the elves had simply grown the stone into the shape of the little hamlet from the side of the mountain rather than had master masons and carvers rend the stone to the proper shape.

"Lady Siv." Dulcet tones called to welcome her.

"Elrond!" She cheered, face immediately alight with glee as she flitted to meet him, her pace respectfully slow so that he might keep track of her approach. "Long has it been since these weary eyes were cast upon your visage."

Indeed, the tall elf before her had not changed much in the time she'd known him. His eyes had grown a little more weary and heavy laden with mysteries and secrets, but his smile was still glad to greet her and his stance was strong and presence commanding. Dark hair pulled back from his stern face in a half tail. Like an elm on the mountain. "It is a pleasure to see you once more, my friend." He agreed, accepting her touch to wrap his long arms about her back, mindful of her wings. "Though considerably larger than the last time I saw you. Back to rights, then?" He noted, guiding her towards the pathway to greet her properly with food and wine and music.

"Indeed, I am faring better than last you saw of me." She allowed her arm to be looped through his as he escorted her. His warmth welcome after the cold of the wind. "How fair the children?"

"Off on tasks of their own. The twins are hunting, though Arwen is around. Her studies prove fruitful. She will be happy to see you. But that begs the question of yourself?" He'd lead her to the banquet hall where food and wine were laid out. "Your timing is impeccable, as always." He chuckled, helping her to her seat.

"Gandalf has sent me." Her tone bid him pause and he cast an arm about the room, bidding all in attendance leave them. She waited until the doors were shut and silence eloped before beginning her task. "He bids a meeting, a council of the races. All who might come."

"I feared that was so." He sighed. "So, it has begun."

She did not do him the disservice to beg questions of him. His foresight was well known throughout the land. "We will need aide if we are to survive the trials ahead."

"It will be so, my fastest riders shall be sent." He agreed.

"Haste is indeed needed. Gandalf shall come when he is able. With companions of his own."

"Ah, the conjuror once again sets the stage. Who does he bring this time? More dwarves?"

Siv smirked at the inclination. "Be it not so, old friend." She popped a berry into her mouth, the juices were sweet, heavenly, upon her tongue. "But, we have little time to prepare."

"More so than the last." He mused.

Her amusement cut short as she leaned forward. "Dark forces are at hand. The shadows are moving. We must succeed in our tasks."

"Indeed." He agreed, taking a sip from his goblet. "But, for now, your task is done. You are welcome to rest, to wait for Gandalf and his companions to join us." She scowled. "Patience is a virtue."

"We both know it is not one I possess."

He smirked once more, "But it is one you shall learn."

"I shall learn more than one thing during my stay." She bid, standing.

He nodded and the doors opened once more. "You remember the way then?"

"Two lefts… and up some stairs?" She asked thoughtfully, a tip of a finger to her chin as she tilted her head.

"And to the right." He finished, pointing the way. "I shall have your rooms prepared in the meantime." He called after her as she raced away, never seeing the light in his eyes or hearing the chuckle fall from his lips at her eagerness to get to their library.

The woman had, indeed, not changed in all the years he'd known her. Just as abrupt and eager as ever. Though, perhaps, a little wiser. He had hoped she'd grow to mature under Gandalf's watch, but it seemed that was a great mistake. Their friendship had both done them some good, but a faerie and a wizard in companionship could only go so well. He feared he did not know where such mischief came from, be it one or the other. Though, his heart swelled to see her smiling again, to see the mischief in her eyes, acting more as she once had in his younger years. Before the wars and the tears and bloodshed, and the betrayal.

"Was that Siv?" Arwen's sweet voice swept through his ears as she joined his side.

"Indeed, it was."

"Is this a social visit?" She smiled, hopeful. She was fond of the faerie who had fought with her father in the war.

"No. Be prepared, she is a forewarning of things to come."

With a shake of his head, he called his most trusted riders, bidding them go, make haste, be cautious, towards their destinations. Then he called those in his house to prepare for the guests- how many?- as many as could be fit. With Gandalf and his mysterious ways, there was no telling who might show up.

Indeed, the council would not be meeting within the immediate future. And so, with time to dawdle, Siv spent it in the library. There was a timelessness that the elves exuded that made it difficult to tell when any time passed at all. She may have been in the library for an hour or three days. But she did not mind, nor was she disturbed.

The peacefulness was calming. It was almost as if she could look up and be back home. It was a nice change of pace from the hurriedness of the humans. Run, run, run, tasks and chores and time always slipping through their grasps- never enough time for humans. Humans, so numerous and exhausting to watch, were always rushing about, yet their tasks never stayed finished. As soon as the day dawned, their chores began again, right from the top of the list no matter how far down they got the day before. But, despite their hurry, they were a slow race, brutish and ungraceful, and so very prone to illness and injury- when they weren't starting wars of their own against each other, it seemed there was always some plague, some sickness, taking hold of their fragile bodies.

Never enough of anything. Time, food, supplies, resources, nothing. And they were so primitive, hardly any of them had a lick of magic, yet they were filled with it. Filled with the life that the land had to offer. If only they tapped into it, they might one day be as powerful as the dwarves at the very least. Instead, they chose to squander it on hard living and infighting.

So strange, sad a race that grew so numerous, she wondered what might happen to the other races. For soon, surely, the vastly growing peoples would need more- always more- land with which to sustain themselves. And where would they go? When the plains and the fields were no more, would they not turn to the forests? To other lands that were in other's grasps? For, if it was one thing that humans seemed to do more than enough of, it was breed. And all knew of the greed of a human.

A shiver racked her tiny frame as she finally looked up upon hearing approaching footsteps. Normally, the footsteps wouldn't bother her, but they were precursor to something in the back of her mind, a sense that told her to take to the skies, alarms ringing that something was not right.

Looking to the doors, she rushed out, startling more than a few of the elves in the vicinity as she bolted, and leapt into the atmosphere.

It was as though someone were calling for help. Her sharp eyes narrowed, suspicious.


	3. Chapter 3

"Arwen!" Siv cried, wings humming with the speed of her flight as she rushed to her friend's aide. The elfin woman bore a passenger, limp and sickly, on her horse, chased by shadows. With a hiss, she gathered faerie light within her palm and shot it at them. The horses dodged, just before the shadow reached for Arwen's' guest, allowing her to gain some ground between them.

Unnatural hissing filled the air. Screeches from the underworld seized the air with cold grips as Siv sent another blast at them, driving them further away. Arwen only needed to reach the river. Reach the border of her homeland before the wraiths could reach her. "Away with you!" Siv roared. "Back to the shadows from whence you came!"

"Siv!" Arwen gasped, relief gracing her features, though she urged the horse on as another blast kept the creatures at bay.

She reached the other shore and they were reluctant to cross the waters. "Give us the halfling!"

They hissed. Five of them. Evil shadows with horses black as night and robes as dark as their souls. She dropped before Arwen's horse, standing protectively between her and them. "If you want him, come and claim him!" Arwen challenged.

Tentatively, they began to do so. Siv could feel their glare, they'd go for her first, and if they got here, she'd be powerless against five of the monsters. She had not the strength to best so many after the blasts of magic she'd already sent their way. Physically she could probably get two of the beasts before the others overwhelmed. Unholy creatures.

Arwen's voice chanted in elvish, pleading for the river's protection.

The river rose, making the enemy's horses snort and rear just moments before the heavy waters rushed to sweep them away. Curiously, Siv thought she saw horses formed in the foam- horses of white, galloping to stampede the evil forces.

A gasp behind her caught her attention. They were flanked?! But no. Arwen was holding the child- a hobbit just reached proper age- to her chest. "Frodo no!"

"Arwen!" She started for them.

"Don't touch him! You mustn't!" She bid, stopping Siv's reaching hand. "My father, get my father!" She cried. She could feel the darkness within him swelling, taking hold of his soul. He would become wraith, like them. "Alert him, we need his help!"

She nodded, rushing away. Within moments she was in the courtyard, calling for him. "Elrond! Elrond, quickly!"

To her surprise, Gandalf joined with him. It seemed the old wizard had just arrived, brown cloak still about his shoulders, the smell of travel dust upon him. "Siv, what is it? What's happened?!" Gandalf asked.

"Arwen- at the river!" She panted. "Wraiths!"

Horror fell upon the two men. "Lead me!" Elrond commanded, grabbing a horse for Gandalf. The elves easily keeping pace with Siv as she did so.

They found Arwen holding the hobbit to her breast, tears streaming down her face. "Father!" She called to him. "He's been stabbed with a morgul blade. He does not have much time."

Elrond gathered the young halfling up and helped him onto Gandalf's horse. "It may already be too late." Elrond slapped the end even as Gandalf gave the horse a kick to the ribs.

Siv followed after the elder lord. Morgul blades were poison, even to a faerie such as she. How the hobbit survived such a blade even this long was a miracle. But if there was even a sliver of hope, she would be there. For she recognised those curls. A common trait of a hobbit, but the facial features of the young halfling, even sick as he was, she could sense something familiar about him. Which concerned her because the only hobbit she'd met was Bilbo. That meant this must be the Frodo Gandalf had mentioned. Frodo…

Elrond was a skilled healer, there was no doubt. The elves were quick and efficient, she sat at his side, her song easing the poor hobbit's pain and aiding Elrond's own magic. She hummed lost tunes that blended and covered his gasping raspy breaths, eased the seizing of his lungs. Allowed his weary soul to anchor within the frail body until the elven medicine could take hold.

The process was long and tedious. By the time their task was complete and the boy was as whole as they might make him, her throat was hoarse and she needed lean heavily upon Lord Elrond as he escorted her out.

"Well?" She blinked in surprise upon being confronted by three other hobbits- and a man. A full blooded man- of the Dunedain, if her eyes served her right. And Gandalf. All were dirty and exhausted in their own right.

"He will live. The danger has passed, though he will bear the scar for the rest of his days." Elrond answered.

"May we see him?" One of the hobbits asked, hopeful.

"He is resting, as should we all." Elrond denied, dashing their hopes.

Upon seeing their abashed faces, Siv stood a little taller, staggering her stance so she might stand on her own. "He will wake soon enough." She assured, turning to go back in.

"Do you not need to rest as well?" Gandalf called after her.

"I will sit watch." She called back, though she did not look back or falter in her step her exhaustion could be seen. Soon enough, they could hear her sweet humming fill the air like a cool summer breeze. Lord Elrond knew she was easing the nightmares of her charge.

"Come now, young masters." Elrond bid, gaining their attention once more. "You may take her place in the morning."

"Yes," Gandalf agreed, standing with the elf. "It would be impolite to ask they tend to us too. Come, let us away before we collapse in the hall."

"I've had rooms prepared for each of you. Elisa shall show you the way." Elrond nodded towards the waiting lady.

"Was… was that other one an elf too?" SamWise Gamgee asked, his eyes already drooping as they all hobbled along, fet filled with lead and legs aching from their hasty flight to Rivendell.

"She was a bit short." Pippin agreed, curiosity lacing his tired tone.

"That, master hobbits," The man in dark clothes grinned, "was a faerie."

"Faerie?!" They all gapped in wonderment, the tiredness leaking away ever so slightly.

It made all of the taller men folk smile with mirth, "Onward now, to bed with you." Gandalf urged.

"A real life faerie, how bout that?" Merry cheered. "I thought they'd all died out!"

"Thought they were a myth, we did." Pippin agreed.

"A real faerie, Strider, what's she doing here?" Sam asked of the man who'd lead them here.

"Tomorrow, Master Gamgee, Tomorrow."


End file.
